


Nihilistic Prophecies

by PandoraButler



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Adrian Crevan - Freeform, Black Butler - Freeform, Kuroshitsuji - Freeform, M/M, Nihilism, adrian crevan is the undertaker's name, fredriche niezche, vintaker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:01:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22272988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandoraButler/pseuds/PandoraButler
Summary: Vincent Phantomhive, a man of many colors and tastes, mysteriously disappeared in a fire a few years back...only to reappear under even stranger circumstances than those in which he left. With scars along his face and body, Adrian Crevan becomes mystified by the man...seeking to understand his mysterious nature.
Relationships: Vincent Phantomhive & Undertaker, Vincent Phantomhive/Undertaker
Kudos: 1





	Nihilistic Prophecies

"Nihilism, the philosophical idea that all life is meaningless," a man outstretched his arm in one direction. "Prophecy, an idea that individuals can foresee the future through various mystical means, especially individuals blessed by God." The man outstretched his other arm in the other direction. "So, then, if you were a nihilist that could tell the future, wouldn't that be a contradiction?" he crossed his arms so that they would overlap in front of him. His top hat's brim cast a shadow over his face. His smile lurked in the air. "A nihilistic prophecy, tell me, dear audience, wouldn't that be hilarious?" 

The man brought his hands into the air and threw them down. A loud pop echoed. Mist surrounded them. One audience member, in particular, was enthralled by this performance. He looked left. He looked right. Where did the stranger go? The street magician's long black fingernails rested on his shoulder. His scars inching up underneath his shirt. His lips gently grazing the silver-haired male's ear. "Your future is riddled with prizes. Lookout, next night, for one prize in particular. A madame, dressed in red, shall tell you magnificent news." 

Another loud pop. The street magician was back on his stage. He bowed. The audience clapped. Shouted. They asked him to do another trick. He smiled, pulling the brim of his hat further onto his face, but no matter how much he tried to hide it, the scar on his face would always be visible. "I bid you adieu, darling humans, shall I see you next night?" His smile always rested on his face. He tore off his hat and flung it into the air. The silver-haired male looked up at it. He watched as the hat landed perfectly on his own head. Mystified, enthralled, surprised, a number of things crossed his mind. Where did that street performer go?

He picked up the hat off of his head and looked into it. A name? He looked at the hat carefully, bringing it closer to his face, staring at the letters. They were too smudged to read. He sighed, placing the hat back on his head, and walked in the direction of his humble abode. His suit was well worn. His shoes nearly about to fall off of his feet. He heard the sound of hoofs against the ground and continued on his way. This hat looked strange on his head. It was far too nice for a man like himself. 

"Will I see that street performer again?" he asked himself, staring at the ground as he walked. 


End file.
